


Weekend Plans

by calerine



Category: Johnny's WEST
Genre: Established Relationship, Flirting, Foreplay, Hand Jobs, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calerine/pseuds/calerine
Summary: The first time Kamiyama stays over at Akito's feat. soft boys with crushes and the sweetness of a new relationship.And now also porn I guess.
Relationships: Kamiyama Tomohiro/Kiriyama Akito
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been actual years since I've finished any fanfiction lol. Someone come teach me how to write again.

It’s late at night when Akito stumbles out of his bedroom, his throat parched from sleeping with his mouth wide open. 

In his half-awake state, he fumbles his way to the kitchen, pours himself some water and spills some on himself in the process.

It is only on his way back that he notices the light in the living room.

“Hello?” he calls, popping his head in the door frame, trying not to let his heart wear a hole through his ribs with all the racing it’s doing in his chest.

“Hey,” comes the response and Akito sighs when he finds Kamiyama, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a cushion and his laptop balanced on his lap.

Blame his grogginess; he was just coming up with a dozen ways to deal with what he’d thought was an intruder. (The first one was setting his sleepy, grumpy dog on them, but now that he thinks about it, that might have backfired.)

“Oh,” Akito’s brain supplies helpfully. His heart still hasn’t gotten the memo.

Kamiyama smiles and he - in Akito’s living room! Rumpled from the late hour and bespectacled with just a touch of sleepiness that makes Akito want him in his bed - still makes Akito warm. 

“Did I wake you?” Kamiyama asks, voice kind and a little rough. Akito shakes his head and finds himself joining Kamiyama on the couch, limbs folding under himself. “Sorry, I know it’s my first time over, I shouldn’t --”

“It’s fine,” Akito tells him, giving in to the urge to intertwine their fingers together, smiling a little dreamily at how he’s allowed to do that. “I mean -- I mean, work happens right? You can always come over again next weekend.” 

Kamiyama squeezes his hand, brows knotting and lips twisting guiltily as he glances back down at the spreadsheet on his screen. “I actually have work scheduled next weekend.”

When he looks up, Akito’s leaning in to nose at his jawline, coaxing Kamiyama to tilt his head up so he can kiss him, soft and tentative and warm. 

“There’s always the weekend after,” he murmurs just before their lips touch and he feels Kamiyama grin against him. 

“And if I have work then too?” 

It makes Akito smile. He loves this teasing lilt to Kamiyama’s voice when he’s flirting with him - with Akito of all people. 

“Then I think I might have to pen a stern letter to your boss.” Akito admits, a hair’s breadth from Kamiyama’s mouth, close enough to smell his own peppermint toothpaste on his breath.

The dimples in Kamiyama’s cheeks deepen. “If I go home to get my work clothes tomorrow, I can stay Sunday night too.” 

“Tonight, you mean,” Akito teases, slipping his fingers into Kamiyama’s hair just to feel how soft it is, chest warming at the image of him in his bathroom earlier this evening, squeezing Akito’s new vanilla shampoo into the palm of his hand. 

For all he’s leaning into the touch, Kamiyama is still far too kind to roll his eyes at that but Akito feels it all the same. “Yes. Tonight. If that’s okay?”

“Mmm, yeah, of course. I’ll make you breakfast on Monday to make up for it then,” and that makes Kamiyama pull away a little, puzzled. 

“Wait, what for?”

Akito sits back, grinning promisingly. “Tomorrow night we’re making up for what we didn’t get to do tonight, right? I’d feel bad if I let you go to the office without at least a good breakfast after that.”

Kamiyama giggles and Akito feels giddy. He could probably get drunk on that sound one day. “If you make sure to keep Shisa out this time.”

“Deal.” He takes Kamiyama’s outstretched hand to shake on it, but instead Kamiyama’s pulling Akito towards him. His hand is on Akito’s cheek, thumb stroking his temple, and he kisses him gently, barely running his tongue along Akito’s lips, barely nibbling on the lower one until Akito’s breath is hitching from the impatience building inside him.

“Tomorrow,” Kamiyama promises when he pulls away, somehow managing to look as soft as he did ten minutes ago when there’s already a fire swelling in Akito’s chest. 


	2. the way my blood burns (for you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kami-chan goes to get his work suit, and Akito keeps his promises.

“Monchi,” Akito groans, heart rabbiting in his throat. It’s so hot in his room even with the duvet kicked to the ground and the AC on full blast. He can barely breathe with Kamiyama’s flushed cheeks so close, and his warm hand, _god -_ his hands. Those fingertips rough with guitar calluses, always knowing how gentle he has to be and how firm. 

It’s only the second time but Akito can’t get enough of it, how he can draw shuddering breath after shuddering breath from Akito’s open mouth.

Kamiyama leans up for a kiss, his free hand braced lightly on Akito’s chest as he slows the flick of his wrist down, parting Akito’s lips with his own. Akito could just come like this; he can feel it in his blood, pressing up against Kamiyama’s weight and being pushed down against the mattress like this. The touch of his tongue, light but firm as Kamiyama is in all things, makes them both shiver. 

“You look so good like that,” Kamiyama grunts, panting, breathing hard as he looks down and it makes Akito’s chest warmer still. 

His forehead presses against Akito’s and they’re both looking down at his hand. He strokes Akito from the root to the tip, taking the time for his thumb to smear precome patiently over the head, then back down again, patient, easy, infuriating. It makes Akito’s hips jerk. A fraction of a whine escape from his chest. 

“Monchi…” Akito starts again, with barely an idea of how he would like to finish that sentence, but Kamiyama is there first like he always is. Like he was tonight, in Akito’s apartment after he picked up his work suit and Akito was still out for groceries, then in Akito’s bed after dinner, dressed only in Akito’s favourite shirt under the covers.

(Every time Kamiyama shifts, Akito can see his cockhead catching on the frayed hem of his shirt, hard and leaking and wanting and god, if that isn’t the hottest thing ever.)

“At this rate, I’m going to have to be the one making you breakfast tomorrow,” Kamiyama teases, leaning down to touch his smirk to the tip of Akito. It makes him press his head back in a groan, his hips lifting to chase the contact and his fingers slipping into Kamiyama’s hair to keep him there. 

“I’d be a bad host if I let you make it especially after this.” Akito strokes his temple gently, yelping a little when Kamiyama huffs a laugh and shuffles down a little more to nip a trail along the soft skin of his inner thigh.

“Well, I was the one working until late last night. Let me make up to you at least, _as your boyfriend_ ,” and from the glint in his eyes, Akito knows he did that on purpose, knows that his own inexplicable fondness must be showing on his face. 

“That’s _cheating_ ,” Akito tells him, even though it’s hard to inject any measure of sternness into his voice. He sits up to get closer, his burning blood wants him to get closer still, wants to push into Kamiyama and find out how his body feels around him, under him, how hot he must feel. Instead, Akito settles for tugging at Kamiyama’s bottom lip with his teeth just to hear him pant and whine, then soothing it with his tongue to make it better. 

“Oh yeah?” Kamiyama asks, pulling away for air. Rhetorical question, Akito knows, but he’s never been one to back down from a fight and Kamiyama’s never been one to, either. 

He shifts to straddle Akito’s thighs, leaning down to kiss him messily. It’s hard not to melt entirely into it, especially when he lines their cocks up side by side, watching him with such tenderness in his eyes that Akito wants to give in already.

“Yeah, and --” The words get lost somewhere in between their mouths, in their electric breaths mingling, or Akito might have swallowed them again because right then, Kamiyama presses them together, shifting his hips forward to get a different angle -- and _fuck,_ the _friction --_

Akito gasps, hips jerking. 

His hands scramble and scrap along Kamiyama’s back.

“And?” There’s a smugness in Kamiyama’s voice that makes Akito want to flip them over, that makes him want to ruck his - _Akito’s_ \- shirt up, and leave love bites all over his chest until he’s gasping and coming between them. 

But god, his hands are the first thing Akito ever loved about Kamiyama and they will always be at the top of his list - the way they press on guitar strings and Akito’s skin, how his thumbs find the give of avocados at the supermarket and then the heartbeat in Akito’s wrists in bed. Fuck, Akito wants them on him all the fucking days of the week, all the minutes and seconds of the day. 

He drops his head against Kamiyama’s shoulders. His lips close over the patch of skin they find, teeth worrying over it, letting Kamiyama thrust in his lap, cocks sliding against each other, precome smeared all over them and their stomachs, and holy shit, Akito needs him even closer now. 

He winds his arms around Kamiyama tightly, fingers pressing into the small of his back, through the sweat-soaked shirt. It slots them in perfect place against each other. 

“Feels so good, your hands feel so good, fuck Monchi, _fuck_ , don’t make me come like this -- _please_ ,” his voice dropping off into a whine. The sounds Kamiyama is making in his ear are obscene, little breathless groans, curses pressed into Akito’s skin, all the filthy promises that they’re going to spend the entire night keeping. 

Then, Kamiyama is pushing Akito back down on the bed, head dropping in a long, low groan. The hem of Akito’s shirt on him is glistening, the length of his hard cock creasing it from where it rests erect against Akito’s stomach. He can feel every twitch of Kamiyama’s hips, each drag of his cock against Akito’s stomach and everything about this feels dirtier than he could have even imagined. 

When Kamiyama looks up to meet Akito’s eyes, his are so dark that Akito shivers. He reaches down to feel him, tracing over his chest and stomach to feel Kamiyama in the palm of his hand when he gets there and runs his thumb wonderingly along the slit of him.

“I need -- I need you to fuck me, Akkun,” he tells him, eyes half-lidded and head drooping from the weight of want. Akito is mapping out the feel of him in his grip, the slick length of him, the slight curve, the vein on the underside that makes his breath hitch and stutter.

“Yeah,” it trips out clumsily on an exhale. Akito’s hand tightens around Kamiyama and his hips jerk helplessly forward. “Fuck, I want it too, if-if you’re sure.”

Kamiyama murmurs Akito’s name, the nickname sounding heavenly and utterly filthy between his kiss-bitten lips, and Akito doesn’t even try to put up a fight.

** 

They’re sated and drifting off when Kamiyama points it out.

“You like it don’t you,” he says. There is a teasing lilt to his voice that Akito has to take a second to recognise, then another second to blink himself away from his dreams.

“Like what?” He asks, throat thick with sleep already.

Kamiyama’s head lolls to face him, a fond smile on his lips, his hand reaching out to skate along Akito’s side. It makes him squirm, just a little. 

“You like it when I call you my boyfriend,” and Akito thinks Kamiyama really has the right to sound a lot more smug than he does now.

“I do,” he admits, feeling so happy and loose and loved that he doesn’t even blush saying it out loud. He feels Kamiyama rolling to his side, his fresh shirt pressing into Akito’s arm and his head on Akito’s shoulder, light, like he’s still waiting for permission. “I love it when you call me your anything, honestly.”

He sneaks a look, peeking through heavy-lidded eyes and Kamiyama’s studying him thoughtfully, his chin propped up on his hand. In the dim light of the table lamp, he looks soft, the shade of his eyes open and private at the same time. Akito lets his head drop back on the bed. 

“And you?” He asks, fumbling a little for Kamiyama’s hand and intertwining their fingers when he finds them.

“Yeah,” Kamiyama murmurs. Akito feels the pad of his thumb stroking along his temple, his fingertips pushing his fringe back from his hairline. “I like calling you mine too.”

*

**epilogue.**

Kamiyama is slowly drifting to the surface of his dreams. He feels the mattress dip, the voice of the man he loves finding shape around a yawn.

 _Shisa-kun,_ it sings quietly. _You love him as much as I do, don’t you?_

A small laugh and mattress shifts again. Then, footsteps, soft and careful before the door clicks shut.

Kamiyama continues drifting, heart-warmed and his head full of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it. I just love them soooo much.


End file.
